When the World Feels Broken

My daughter just fell asleep on my chest. She did that thing all babies do — snuggled in for a second, then tossed her head back and forth, got fussy, and then snuggled back in again. Eventually, she gave in. Her body softened. Her breathing slowed. She was safe.

And I watched her — this perfect little human — and I ached.

She’s nine months old. The same age as Kfir Bibas when he was kidnapped on October 7th.
I cannot — I will not — let myself imagine what Shiri Bibas felt.
To imagine it would break me. My oldest is a four-and-a-half-year-old gingi.

I wasn’t even pregnant with my daughter then. Not yet. Our first conversation about trying for a third was on October 6th. She became an idea that night, and the next morning — the world imploded.

And now she’s here.
And she’s wonderful.
And all I want — all I want — is for her and her brothers to have lives full of joy and laughter and learning and stupid arguments over who gets the blue plate.

I want them to struggle, of course I do. Every kid needs to struggle a little. I want them to wrestle with hard questions. With friendships. With math. With who they are in the world. I want them to grapple with justice and how to be a good person.

But I do not want them to struggle with a world that hates them for existing. And right now? That’s exactly what it feels like.

The amount of antisemitism in the world today… there aren’t words strong enough.
And I keep asking myself: What happened?
What happened to decency?
To critical thinking?
To conversations?

Instead, we have people with massive platforms — platforms with millions of followers, more than there are Jews in the entire world — who use that influence not to educate or inspire, but to spread lies, fuel hate, and cry victim when they’re called out.

Miss Rachel, I’m looking at you.

You started your platform to help kids. You talked about kindness. Inclusion. Helping little ones find their voice. And now you’re promoting people who openly support Hamas.
Posting with them. Smiling beside them.

And yes — I say this as a Jewish mom and an Israeli mom:
My heart breaks for the children of Gaza. It does.
But why does that mean we erase the children of Israel?
Why does it have to be one or the other?

Worse — you’re not just posting.
You’re influencing. You have millions of tiny, trusting viewers watching your every move.
And now you’re teaching them that Jews don’t count. That Israelis are the enemy. That our pain doesn’t matter.

My kids are good people. Kind and curious and hilarious and loud and loving.
And they’re growing up in a world that doesn’t even see them as human.

I want to scream. I want to scream all the time! What happened to discourse?
What happened to asking questions, to listening, to making decisions based on facts on the ground?

I follow this guy online – Benda, an Israeli-American singer who shares songs in a lot of languages. People love him — until they find out he’s Israeli. And suddenly, that love often turns to hate and vitriol.

He didn’t change. Their perception did.

So for now, what do I do?

We watch Blippi.
We sing “Excavator” on repeat.
We dance to Danny Go.

And we skip Miss Rachel.
Because we just don’t.

And if anyone asks — or if my kids ask someday — I’ll tell them this:

Because sometimes the world forgets how to be good.
But we don’t have to.